


A Cinderella Story

by cottonpadenthusiast



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cinderella AU, Draco Malfoy as Cinderella, Friendship, Harry Potter as a Prince, M/M, Male Cinderella, Mutual Pining, Pining, and everyone being oblivious, loss of magic, ok yes i know it would have made more sense to have harry as cinderella but i don't care, this is basically just a huge angsty-pining mess from the beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-17 03:22:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16508420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cottonpadenthusiast/pseuds/cottonpadenthusiast
Summary: Once upon a time, a young man, named Draco Malfoy, was forced to work as a servant for his aunt, Bellatrix. But this isn't the story you're expecting.Draco Malfoy is no princess and he is no fool. He does not fall in love with princes, he does not attend balls, and he does not live in a fairytale. But maybe every fairytale isn't perfect and maybe the Prince is no knight in shining armour. Maybe the Prince is your best friend...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first part of a seven-part series. The next chapter should be out soon! :)

Draco hummed to himself lightly, reaching down to place the herbs he had been collecting in his basket, as the sun shone gently through the trees above. The empty forest was alive with the rustling of leaves, the sound of running water in the distance and birds singing their tune. This was Draco’s favourite place, his only place away from the hell he called home and his two vile step-brothers, Gregory and Vincent. The Malfoy Manor was once home,  _really_  home, a place where he felt wanted and safe and loved. Now, it was a prison, a house full of Draco’s ghosts, where he served as a slave for his supposed family. Now, it was his nightmare.

Draco stood up. Brushing himself down, he glanced at the dark, looming manor behind him. He didn’t need to go back just yet. Bellatrix, his step-mother, wouldn’t notice his absence. Not until she needed something cleaned anyway.

Drace faced the sun, allowing himself to bask in the heat. It was in these forests he had first learned magic with his mother. She had taught him that nature founded the basis of magic, allowed its idea to become a reality, and every witch or wizard felt a deep connection with their environment. Every part of this forest held importance, she had told him, each leaf, each flower, just like how every spell has importance. To cast a spell, you must allow it to become the most important thing to you, and only then will you be able to perform magic to its full extent.

That had been one of last times she had left the house before her illness left her bedridden. Draco sighed, glancing to the path back home. It was probably best to go back. The last time he had stayed for too long, he had been locked in the cellar for three days, and was only let out to do the chores. Even now, he still felt fear grip him thinking about the torture of that.

However, as Draco walked to the path, he caught a glimpse of a strange blue light in the corner of his eye. He would have continued on had he not realised there was no streams or rivers this side of the forest. Slowly, he spun around and moved closer to the bright orb hidden amongst the trees. As he got closer and closer, and the light clearer and clearer, the blue orb seemed to take on the form of a stag. A glowing stag that was standing in a forest clearing.

It was in this moment that Draco realised two very important things; the first being that this was, in fact, a patronus, something that Draco hadn’t been able to produce since his mother’s death six years ago. The second realisation, and the much more alarming of the two, was that this was a Potter Patronus, a deer, which could only be produced by those from the Royal Potter line. And the only heir to the throne was Harry Potter, the Prince of Hogsmeade, the Golden Boy, the most prestiged man in all the kingdom. Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy’s childhood best friend and former crush.

Draco’s heart dropped.  _This_  could not be good.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco inched further into the clearing, stifling a gasp when he saw the figure before him. A young man lay, arm draped across his eyes, on the grass. His dark skin glowed a deep golden in the sun, and his black hair swung in curls across his head. His cream shirt and fitted bottoms, although simple, probably cost more than Draco’s entire wardrobe. Harry Potter was gorgeous, and Draco Malfoy was sure he was dreaming.

As the Prince lay peacefully, unaware of his onlooker, Draco began to “refresh his memory”. In reality, he was staring like an idiot. But Harry was beautiful and the once small, untidy little boy Draco had once known was now gone and in his place was a man with a lean body, jawline and, Merlin’s beard,  _shoulders_.

Draco tried to inch closer for a better view, but a twig snapped under his foot and the Prince shot up. Soon, Draco was pressed against a tree, sword pushed against his throat and Harry Potter towering above him. This day really couldn’t get any worse.

“Who are you and what do you want?” Harry demanded, eyes blazing. His voice was deeper, rougher than Draco remembered.

“Emmm. I’m…I’m-”

The Prince pressed the sword harder against Draco’s neck. “I asked you a question and I would appreciate if you answered me, sir.”

It was in this moment that Draco realised that Harry did not recognise him. The years of starvation, hard labour and pain had changed Draco and not only in appearance. His hair, once long and blonde, was now short and covered in dirt. He was small, thin and covered in bruises. Bellatrix had recently added a new bruise to his collection, across his cheekbone and eye, for accidentally spilling tea on her dress. Despite the pang of hurt, Draco was glad Harry was unaware of his identity. What would he think of Draco now? A sad, unimportant, stupid servant whose own family couldn’t bear the sight of him. Harry wouldn’t be able to even look at him. And that would hurt Draco more than he would like to admit.

“Well,  _I_  would appreciate if you would remove that murderous object from my neck but I suppose we can’t always get what we want,” Draco responded.

Amusement flicked across the Prince’s face. “Just tell me who you are and what you want and I will let you go.”

Draco sighed. Had Harry always been this difficult? “I’m…I’m Elliot. I’m a servant. I was collecting herbs for dinner, when I saw your Patronus. I was simply looking before you decided to try and seriously injure me.”

“I wasn’t trying to seriously injure you!” Harry protested, but he removed the sword from Draco’s throat and stepped back.

Draco rubbed his neck where the sword had been, while pulling the hood of his dark cloak further over his head. “If you’re going to lie out in the forest alone, don’t be surprised if someone appears. Especially if you’ve got a bright blue stag standing by. And definitely, don’t bloody attack them.”

The Prince didn’t reply, but instead watched Draco inquisitively. The blonde tried not to squirm under his gaze. Draco remembered this from towards the end of their friendship. The awkwardness he would feel around Harry, the blushing every time Harry simply glanced at him. Childhood crushes were something Draco did not miss.

“Do you know who I am?” The question made Draco still. Was that a trick question?

Draco met Harry’s curious gaze. “Yes… you’re Prince Harry, your Highness.” Harry had never allowed Draco to greet him so formally when they were friends, but he supposed now they were almost complete strangers. Harry probably hadn’t thought about him in years.

“Then why did you treat me so informally, like someone…normal?” The Prince asked, stepping closer to Draco.

“If I offended you, your Highness, I apologise deeply. I did not mean-”

“No,” Harry interjected. “Do not apologise. I didn’t mean that I was offended. I quite liked that I wasn’t being treated like some precious object for once actually. I was merely curious as to why you did so.”

“Oh,” Draco responded, staring curiously at the Prince. Harry had never liked being treated differently than others, even at a young age, and always had been polite and friendly with even the lowest servants. It was one of the reasons Draco had liked him so much. “I suppose when one has a lethal object against their throat, formalities are often thrown out the window.”

The Prince grinned, causing Draco’s heart to tug lightly in his chest. “I suppose they are,” he agreed, green eyes sparkling.

Draco met Harry’s gaze. This boy, this man, had been the last shred of happiness in Draco’s life before the world had come collapsing down around him. Harry stood for everything Draco had lost, the life that had been yanked from his grasp. And Draco yearned that sweet joy he had felt at that time more than anything in the world. But Harry was a memory, a dream, and Bellatrix was his reality. He could not stay any longer and wish for impossible things. Even dreams couldn’t last forever.

“I must go, Your Highness. It was a pleasure to meet you.” Draco bowed lowly, trying to hide the sadness in his eyes.

“Goodbye, Elliot. I hope that our paths may cross again,” Harry answered, smiling as Draco turned and walked away.

The pain in Draco’s chest reminded him of how he felt when he found out his mother would die. Hopeless. Despite how much the Prince wished, they would never see each other again, because life was cruel and Draco had learnt that the hard way. So Draco tread down the path to Malfoy Manor, to Vincent and Gregory, to Bellatrix, to pain and loneliness. He walked and did not cry because crying implied there was hope of something better and Draco had none.

He did not look back.


	3. Chapter 3

Draco sighed, wiping the sleep from his eyes with his forearm, as he scrubbed the breakfast dishes clean. He had barely gotten any sleep last night, nor any night since his meeting in the forest three days ago. His dreams had been haunting, full of voices and lights. Draco always seemed to be running in them, from what or who he didn’t know, but a stag, Harry’s stag, appeared in every dream. If it was Draco’s dream trying to send him some subconscious message about Harry, he was having none of it. Those dreams could bugger off for all he cared, because Draco Malfoy definitely did not think about Harry Potter at all. Particularly not his jawline. Or his curly hair.

Suddenly, a low ringing sounded through the house. Someone had rung the doorbell.

“DRACO! THE DOOR!” Bellatrix’s voice boomed from above, causing Draco to almost drop the plate in his hands. Merlin, that woman could shout. Draco set the plate down before making his way upstairs.

The dark hall was illuminated only by candles, and Draco’s steps echoed around him as he trudged through the Manor. He reached the heavy wooden door and pulled it wide, allowing the morning light to flood the hallway. A man stood by the entrance, clothed in the dark crimson robes, with a lion symbol stitched across his chest. Draco’s heart jolted. He was a palace servant.

“Good morning, sir. Can I ask you to deliver this letter to Lord Draco Malfoy and Lady Bellatrix Lestrange on behalf of the Royal Potter Family?” Draco grimaced at the mention of his former title. He hadn’t been referred to as Lord since Bellatrix’s arrival at the Manor. She had told him the title would only increase his ego, that he did not deserve to be called anything more than his name. Sometimes, he believed her.

Draco lifted the letter from the servant’s offering hand. The letter’s colour matched that of the man’s robes. “I will. Thank you, sir,” Draco responded, before closing the door shut.

Draco turned the letter around in his hand, the bright sheen of the paper glimmering in the candlelight. He resisted the urge to tear it open right there and then, but he racked his mind for any explanation as to what was written inside. The only way to find out was to give it to his aunt.

 

“Miss Bellatrix, there is a letter for you. From the palace.” Draco stated, stepping into the elegant living room. Plush, green sofas surrounded the fireplace, and the walls were covered by expensive paintings and portraits. Bellatrix sat stiffly on the chair closest to the fire, the flames illuminating her face in a harsh light. Gregory and Vincent’s chatter from the other side of the room came to a halt with Draco’s statement.

Bellatrix’s head shot up. “Bring it here,” she snapped.

Draco stepped forward and placed the delicate paper in her hand.

The room was silent as Bellatrix read the letter slowly, every gaze watching her eyes skim the words. Draco’s heart paced in his chest and he was sure the sound filled the room.

Bellatrix deliberately lowered the letter, looking up to the eager faces. A slow, gleeful smile spread across the pale face and her eyes gleamed with a purposeful intensity Draco had never seen before.

She arched one perfectly drawn eyebrow. “There’s going to be a ball.”

 

 

Draco was stupid. So completely and utterly stupid. He had actually believed for one second that he was going to the ball. He had thought that somehow in this cruel universe he would be allowed just one night of happiness and a chance to see Harry. But, of course, he had been wrong.

Bellatrix had laughed in his face when he had asked if he could wear his father’s old dress robes to the ball. They would be entirely out of fashion but they were the only option he had. Well, until his aunt reminded him that he was merely a servant, a useless slave, and there would be uproar if he was to even show his face at the ball. He was delirious, she had told him, if he even thought for a minute he was too leave the manor for anything more than to collect herbs.

She had been right, of course. Draco knew she was. Which was why he didn’t object when he was forced to fix Gregory’s hair with potion. Nor did he object when Gregory pushed a pile of garments into his arms and demanded him to iron them. And he did not object when Bellatrix ordered him to scrub every floor clean, no magic allowed, so that her expensive heels were not dirtied when she walked. He didn’t object because he  _was_  their servant and who was he to ever believe that someone like Harry Potter would ever want him at the ball.

“WHERE ARE MY SHOES?! DRACO, WHERE ARE MY SHOES?!”

Draco groaned inwardly. At that moment, his hands were caught in the mess that was Bellatrix’s hair, as he tried to manoeuvre each curl into its appropriate place. Ever since the invite had arrived, Draco hadn’t been able to spend more than two minutes without someone calling his name and piling more things to do on his already full list.

“HAVE YOU CHECKED YOUR FEET, GREGORY?” Draco shouted, adjusting the last piece of hair in place.

There was a pause. “Oh. Yeah. I FOUND THEM!”  _Merlin, how did your mother actually birth someone so stupid?_  Draco thought, as the sound of carriages arriving came from outside.

Bellatrix rose from her seat, her dark purple gown trailing behind her as she walked. Draco stumbled behind, following her as she descended down the main staircase, her two sons waiting at the bottom. Each of their robes complimented the other, the rich clothes of purple and green glimmering under the candlelight. Draco’s heart twisted in anger and jealousy. He knew what they were trying to do. Bellatrix wanted either Gregory or Vincent to woe and marry Harry so their little family would become the most powerful family in the land. They were going to use Harry for their own gain, wanted to use him like an object, and Draco had no chance of stopping them.

Draco glared, as each of them placed their masks upon their face. It was a masquerade ball, and each mask was spelled to make it’s wearer unrecognisable. Gregory, Vincent and Bellatrix all looked the same as before, but Draco was somehow unable to recognise any of them. It was as if his brain couldn’t remember who it was that stood before him.

Two of the masked figures strode out. Only one stayed, Bellatrix it must have been, and Draco felt her icy glare even beneath the mask.

“You know your mother died because she could no longer stand you, Draco,” Bellatrix stated, causing Draco’s heart to squeeze painfully. “She tried to love you, as I tried to love you, but you are too stubborn, too ungrateful to ever be deserving of appreciation. You believe you’re better than everyone else, but look at you now. You are worthless, useless, nothing. You have brought it upon yourself. You only have yourself to blame.” She studied at him one moment longer, before slamming the door shut behind her.

And with that, everything that Draco had been holding together came crashing down. He began to sob for his mother, for his father, for himself. He wanted his mother back, he needed her back. She had been his rock for twelve years, his home, and then one day she was just gone. She took his father and his happiness with her soon after. Maybe he hadn’t meant to make it this far. Maybe he should have gone long ago, but was stuck here believing that something better might come along. But not every story had a happy ending. And Draco didn’t even have a story at all.

“I didn’t think Malfoys cried on staircases. Wait, it’s you, the dramatic bitch, so I’m not even slightly surprised.”

Draco’s cries immediately stopped at the sound of the voice. The Universe was really messing with him, if that was who thought it was. Because Pansy Parkinson could not be standing in his hall. Pansy Parkinson, his best friend, his saviour, one might even call her his fairy godmother, was definitely not meant to be here.

Draco slowly lifted his gaze to meet a pair of dark brown eyes. Pansy smiled dangerously. “Now what was this about a ball?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the lovely comments so far on this series! They have been so sweet. I have nothing really left to say except enjoy and don't eat pineapple on pizza

Draco exhaled deeply. “Pans…you can’t be serious.”

The girl in question, a tall, slim and dark-haired witch, raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, Draco?”

“This. .It’s…it’s…IT’S HORRIBLE.” Draco glanced down at the robes he was wearing, then back to Pansy. “You know pale blue is not my colour and even if it was, the shape of my trousers is strikingly similar to that of a bin bag. My arse has disappeared! I would rather go to this bloody ball naked than wear this.”

Pansy smirked. “I’m sure the Prince would enjoy that immensely.”  Draco glared at her as she continued.

“Considering I am the only one between us both that can perform magic at this plain moment,  I would be a little more grateful if I were you. It takes a lot of effort to cast those sewing spells, and maybe my efforts would be appreciated elsewhere,” the witch mused, folding her arms defiantly.

“You know I would make my own garments if I could, Pans. I haven’t been able to cast more than a cleaning spell since…well you know when. And I really do appreciate everything you’re doing for me but I just…

“Don’t want to look like the sky puked on you?” Pansy finished for him, smiling at him. “Do you seriously think I would let you go out in that? Dear Merlin, I can’t believe you actually thought I would like something so horrendous. ”

Draco let out the breath he had been holding. “Thank Merlin. I thought you had gone insane.” He started unbuttoning his shirt, but Pansy held up a hand, signalling him to stop.

“What? I’m not actually wearing this, am I? Please don’t tell me that was all a joke.” If he had to wear this, Draco was pretty sure he would sacrifice himself on the steps of the palace.

The girl only smirked in response, a cunning glint in her eyes. Her wand was pointing at Draco before he had any time to react. He was instantly lifted into the air, foot dangling a few centimetres from the ground, and his whole body tingling with magic in the way he had been craving for years. He had lost his magic soon after his father’s death, his grief swallowing any source of happiness from within him, and even the simplest of spells was a struggle. But this, Pansy’s magic swirling around, made him feel more powerful, more invincible than he had felt all his life.

The muted blue cloth draped across his body was disappearing in a spiral of magic, and Draco blinked as his vision was blurred in the explosion of light and colour. He felt as if a gust of wind was blowing him up and up, but soon he had to come down. He began to descend, the magic fading away, but all Draco could see was the night sky. His body had become tangled in the stars, flickering lights blinking against a vast navy, and the only reason Draco knew that this was real, that he hadn’t really become part of the galaxy, was the soft drop to his feet when he reached the floor.

“Do you like it?” Pansy asked somewhere in the distance, but Draco did not even notice her. He was transfixed by the boy in the mirror looking back at him. The boy wearing deep blue robes with silver flecks that glimmered in the light. The boy with a sharp yet striking face, cloudy grey eyes and white blonde hair that fell softly across his forehead. The boy without a tragic past, or a damned future. The boy Draco was always meant to be.

Draco turned to Pansy, his mind full of words he didn’t know how to say. “Pans…-”

“Stop,” she interrupted. “You don’t need to thank me. You deserve this, Draco. More than anyone.”

Draco stepped forward and wrapped the girl in a hug, trying to stop the tears from flowing the second time that night. “Thank you, Pansy. I don’t know what I would do without you,” he murmured against her shoulder.

“Well, you would probably forget that you still require a means of transport and a mask.”

“Oh. Yeah. Would you…?”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it covered.”

Draco soon realised that Pansy’s idea of having “it covered” involved a delicate silver mask that covered half of his face, a massive golden carriage and a hoard of thestrals to pull it. To put it simply, everything was magnificent and nothing was going to stop Draco from dancing with Harry all night long.

But what Draco didn’t realise is that no story went by smoothly, no tale didn’t have its twists and turns, and even an ancient clock still struck twelve at midnight.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Heaven on earth. A simple yet far-fetched idea. A euphoric and distant idea. An idea that stood before Draco in the form of an ancient castle, with towers that touched the clouds and gardens that spread across a vast land. An idea that was becoming more of a reality as he stepped up the winding stairs that lead to the wide entrance, couples in masks strolling past and the sound of an orchestra playing in the distance.

Draco remembered this. He knew that the furthest window to the left on the third level was Harry’s and he knew that the turnoff a few steps back led down to the stables. He knew that the dining room always smelled of lilies at the King’s request and he knew that the right tower guest room had the best bed to jump on. He knew this castle like it was his own home, and somehow, he felt it. Draco felt like this was where he belonged, even if it was for one night.

“Good evening, Sir. If you would like to continue forward, the ballroom is down the staircase.”

Draco looked up, the voice sparking a memory long forgotten. He met the eyes of Remus Lupin. He was the head-servant at the castle, the husband of Lord Sirius Black and the man who taught Draco and Harry how to hide chocolate in their clothes without their parents noticing. For a moment, Draco wondered why the man had not recognised him before realising the mask on his face hid his identity. To Remus, he was just another guest and maybe even without this mask, he would be.

“Thank you,” Draco replied, smiling at the man before walking on. He felt the servant’s eyes on him as he moved away, but didn’t dare look back to meet them.

The ball was in full swing below Draco. Nearly everyone had arrived and couples were spinning across the floor, the soft melody of the strings filling the room. Draco spotted Harry instantly, mainly due to the fact he was one of the few people in the room not wearing a magical mask. The Prince stood tall beside his mother, smiling and talking as she spoke to a guest. His fitted burgundy suit was finished with intricate designs, weaved in a golden string that reflected the candlelight and his crown sat upon his head of jet black curls. Harry Potter was there and he was beautiful.

The song ended as Draco began to descend down the marble staircase. His robes trailed behind him, painting the night sky on the steps and leaving stardust in his wake. He began to feel the eyes of the guests watching him, the room silent bar the soft tread of his shoes on the ground, but all of this fell away once he looked up to see Harry staring at him.

Draco’s body was buzzing under Harry’s gaze but he did not look away. Grey eyes stayed focused on green as Harry pushed through the crowd, moving towards Draco. The blond did not understand why ever part of his body was pulling him to Harry, nor did he understand why Harry was waiting for him at the bottom of the staircase. A part of Draco told him that Harry felt it too, the strange bond that was pulling them together, but Draco scolded himself for even wishing that. Enough dreams had come true tonight to last a lifetime and  _that_  dream was an impossible one.

Finally, Draco reached the bottom step and lifted his head to look up at the man before him. For a moment, they looked. Nothing was said as they studied the other, taking in each detail, each feature. Draco’s heart clenched as he stared at the little lightning scar on the Prince’s head, remember how he had always wanted to trace it with his fingers, realising that was no longer a memory but reality as his fingers itched to do the same now.

“May I have this dance?” Harry asked, his voice quiet and low, and his dark hand outstretched.

Another memory flickered up of Harry asking the very same question when they were eleven and holed up in Harry’s room as the music from a ball floated up to them. It was then young Draco realised his feelings for Harry as they twirled across the carpet and giggled when Harry got his steps all muddled. Tonight seemed just as magical as then.

A slow, small smile painted itself on Draco’s lips. “Of course,” he replied, and grasped Harry’s hand.

The room filled with whispers as the two walked into the centre of the floor, but all Draco could focus on was the fluttering of butterflies in his stomach and the warmth of Harry’s hand in his own.

Music began to play and soon the two were dancing, floating across the floor as other couples twirled around them. Draco kept his eyes on Harry the whole time, wanting to remember every moment of this, wanting to memorise every inch of Harry, but the Prince’s hand on his lower back and the fingers that kept tracing patterns onto his spine made it very hard for Draco to concentrate.

“What’s your name?” Harry asked as Draco leant back over Harry’s arms.

“A secret.”

Harry smirked. “Hello, A Secret. I’m Harry Potter.”

“You’re not funny,” Draco retorted, spinning into Harry’s arms.

Harry laughed. “Ok, ok. I apologise. However, I will reiterate my earlier question. What is your name?”

“I don’t believe I can say. The whole point of a masquerade ball is to remain anonymous and telling you my name defies the point.”

“Well, I think we can make an exception just this once.”

Draco tried to hide his smile. “I don’t think we can. Especially considering you’ve stepped on my toe twice already. Aren’t princes meant to receive dancing lessons?”

“When your dance teacher is a pompous, cynical arse, it is very hard to pay attention.”

Draco knew Harry was talking about Snape. Harry always complained about him as a child, and from his few experiences with Snape, Draco could easily agree with Harry.

“Maybe he’s just like that because he has  _you_  as a student, your Highness.”

Harry barked a laugh and Draco tried to hide his glee at making him laugh. “You don’t know my teacher. He could turn water to ice by just staring at it.”

“To be honest, I agree with you, your Highness. Snape is a bit of a tosser.”

Harry stared suspiciously at Draco and the blonde realised his mistake even before the Prince spoke.

“How did you know he was called Snape? I never told you.”

Draco’s stomach filled with cold dread, as he wracked his mind for some sort of excuse. “I’m into my dancing, and I’ve heard that he’s one of the best dance teachers in the kingdom. Everyone knows that he is employed here, your Highness.”

Harry studied Draco for a moment longer. “I suppose you’re right,” he replied.

Draco tried to hide his relief, but a part of him knew that the Prince was still suspicious of him. Even Harry wasn’t that stupid.

“Your robes are quite magnificent. Who designed them?”

“Thank you. I do love them. And it was a friend of mine.”

Harry pulled Draco tight against his chest. “Who?”

“If this is your way of trying to figure out who I am, you’re being very obvious about it, your Highness.” Draco smirked, before stepping back in time with the beat.

“I was merely curious as to who could design such beautiful robes. But often the clothes are nothing if the wearer does not have the looks to match them,” Harry replied, pulling Draco against him again.

Draco felt a bright blush rise on his cheeks. Since when had Harry learnt to flirt? “Your suit is quite gorgeous too, your Highness,” he whispered back, the double meaning behind his words clear.

Draco gazed into Harry’s emerald eyes, feeling like a surge of electricity had shot through him. He went to step back but Harry’s strong arms wrapped around him, locking him there even as the dance came to an end.

“Meet me outside in twenty minutes.  _Please_.” The last word almost came out like a beg and Draco’s chest squeezed with the desperation behind the Prince’s words. However, Harry had turned and walked off before Draco could reply, leaving the blonde yearning for the feeling of Harry’s arms around him again.

Draco knew it could never end well. He knew that after tonight he would never see Harry again, and he knew that if Harry would be heartbroken if he ever found out who Draco really was. He knew that this was going to end in pain and he knew that they were doomed. He knew all of this but he still found himself wandering into the gardens outside with a heart brighter than all the stars in the sky.


	6. Chapter 6

Draco perched himself on the low wooden swing that hung from the tall willow tree outside the ballroom. The music and voices were muted in the quiet of the night and only the warm, glowing lamps beside the path and the twinkling stars provided any source of light.

The tower clock above read ten-thirty. Draco only had an hour and a half before Pansy would arrive and bring him home. If he didn’t leave by then, Bellatrix would arrive home before him and, well, Draco did not even want to think about what would happen then. There was also the matter that Pansy would “not get her beauty sleep”, and Draco did not want to be at the receiving end of her wrath either.

The stars watched Draco as he began to swing lightly. Memories flew towards Draco of summer afternoons spent with Harry and this swing. One blazing moment stood out. It had been his turn to “fly”, as they used to call it, with Harry pushing Draco hard so that he soared into the air. He can still feel the joy that rushed through him as he leapt off the swing and reached out his hands to the sky, wanting desperately to reach the clouds above. He had never been afraid of falling. Not until now. Not until Harry Potter and his deep red robes and that bloody smirk.

“You know that swing is only meant for children.”

Harry’s voice jolted Draco from his mind and the blonde looked up to see Harry’s shadowy figure walking towards him.

“Just you try to tell me that you weren’t on this within the last week.”

The Prince stopped and leaned against the willow tree, only a metre to Draco’s right. A small amused smile was painted on his face. “I only said it was meant for children. Not that it was used by children.”

Draco smiled, but he stopped when he caught the look on Harry’s face. He wore a strange, confused look, while his eyes studied Draco with suspicion and confusion. His expression immediately made Draco’s whole body fill with dread.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Harry blinked slowly. When he realised he had been staring, he quickly painted a large smile on his face. Draco knew it was fake. Harry’s real smiles were always slightly lopsided.

“Because you’re the only thing worth looking at.”

 _Charming fucker_ , Draco thought, trying and failing to stop a blush spreading on his cheeks.

“You really only should try flirting with me when you don’t have half a chocolate fudge cake on your face,” Draco replied, relishing in the shock and embarrassment that flooded Harry’s face as he tried desperately to scrub at his mouth and cheeks with the back of his sleeve.

He laughed loudly, causing Harry’s face to turn an even deeper shade of red. “Merlin’s beard, you idiot. Come here, I’ll do it.”

Draco got up and walked towards Harry, stopping right in front of him. He stood on his toes, reaching up slightly, and began wiping gently with his finger on Harry’s face. Draco could feel Harry’s breath fanning over him and the electricity shooting through his body. The two were completely still apart from Draco’s wiping, until Harry’s hands slowly made their way to Draco’s hips, causing his heart to go into overdrive.

“There you go. All gone,” Draco whispered, his voice coming out croaky. He went to step back but Harry’s grip on his hips tightened, holding him in place.

Draco looked, really looked, at Harry. The dark soft locks that just asked to be combed through by Draco’s fingers, the long black eyelashes and the sloping nose. Finally, Draco’s gaze dropped to Harry’s lip. Suddenly, the air was felt alive and hot around them, the stars seemed to lean closer, and Draco didn’t know what worse anymore; kissing Harry or never kissing him at all.

However, Harry’s words cut through the daze in Draco’s mind, shattering the illusion around them.

“May I take off your mask?” He asked, eyes focused on the glittering object in question.

Draco closed his eyes, sighing deeply, as disappointment and frustration filled his body. “No,” he said, stepping back away from Harry and turning his back to him.

“Why? Why can’t you just tell me who you are?” The hurt in Harry’s voice almost broke Draco.

“Because if I tell you who I am, you will regret everything.”

“How do you know that?! You can’t bloody tell the future!”

Draco spun around. Anger raged inside of him, more at himself for allowing himself to care than at Harry’s persistence. “Just shut it, Potter! You can’t have a bloody meltdown everytime something doesn’t go your way! I have reasons far bigger than you for keeping this mask on, so maybe stop acting like a self-entitled brat and just accept it. I want to take off this mask more than anything but I can’t because I know you will hate me. And I really don’t think I could survive if you hated me, Potter.”

Draco’s words hung in the air around them, the silence almost suffocating. He hadn’t meant to say those last words, the meaning too raw and important for two people who had only met an hour ago, but they were true. Even these last few years without Harry had been torturous and the only comfort to Draco was that Harry was happy and safe, blissfully ignorant to Draco’s pain. Revealing his identity could only result in two things for Draco; Harry’s guilt or Harry’s disgust. And neither of those were an option. If one of them was to be happy, it would be Harry, and Draco would sacrifice anything, even his own happiness, so that Harry could achieve his.

The Prince stood there for a few moments, his face blank and vacant, until a sudden realisation sparked in the emerald eyes. Draco tried to decipher Harry’s thoughts, but the Prince had quickly masked them, only the small smile on his lips a sign of his new understanding. Draco did not know what to think of this.

The Prince stepped forward, reaching for Draco’s hand. “I’m so incredibly sorry. I didn’t realise how much of a selfish arse I was being. Please excuse everything I said before and accept my apology. I never meant to hurt you.”

Draco saw the guilt in Harry’s eyes, heard the sincerity in his deep voice and knew that Harry meant what he said.

“I accept your apology, your Highness, on one condition.”

“And what would that be?”

Draco smirked. “That you go fetch me a piece of cheesecake. I am developing a slight hunger with all the dancing and shouting.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but his wide smile gave him away. “You are easily pleased.”

“What? Would you prefer I ask you to go slay a dragon and bring me its head?” Draco replied, an eyebrow raised.

“Hmm, now that  _would_  be fun.”

Draco groaned. How did he actually tolerate this idiot?

When Harry returned a few minutes later, a glorious pink cheesecake in hand and face lit up with a smile, Draco had to stop himself from wishing that this night could go on forever, and this man could always be near him.

The rest of the night was spent talking and laughing, whispering when palace guards walked past and arguing over which Quidditch team would win this year’s tournament. When Harry’s hand came to a rest on his own, Draco did not pull away, allowing himself to savour it, to savour this night while he had the time.

But time was not Draco’s friend. Time went on, ringing the bells that midnight had come and signalling Draco’s departure from this palace and this boy. And so he did.

Draco ran from the garden, despite Harry’s shouts and begs. He ran on through the ballroom and down the steps, despite Harry following him close behind. Draco ran on to the carriage and disappeared into the night, despite every part of his body telling him to stay. No glass slipper was left on the steps of the palace, nor any garment belonging to Draco. The only thing he left behind was Harry, his heart and his happiness, all of his dreams that he had thought possible once upon a time. Draco left his love on the steps of that palace and hoped Harry had more use of it than he ever did. Because if Draco wished for anything, it was that Harry would be happy.

But what Draco didn’t stop to consider was that maybe, just maybe, Harry’s happiness was him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the love on this little series! It means so much and I appreciate every kudos and every comment and every bookmark. I really hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it <3

Draco stared out the small, dusty window above the sink. The clouds loomed overhead, the grey sky darkening the little kitchen, as Draco lifted the heavy water-filled bucket onto the ground.

The only sign that the ball had occurred, that the moments with Harry had been real, was the dull, permanent aching of Draco’s heart. The night had been awful. Draco could barely control the sobs that had wracked through his body and the sharp, agonising pain in his chest when he had realised that he would never see Harry again. He had stayed awake all night, wishing and praying that somehow, in some other universe, they would be reunited again. He had done the same thing when his mother, then father, had died. Only this time, it seemed he was the one dying.

Draco hoped death was quick. He hoped death was soon.

A low, heavy rumbling sounded from outside, shaking Draco from his thoughts. Draco peered outside to find the source of the noise. The courtyard was empty, but now the sound, which Draco had realised was hooves hitting the ground, was growing closer, until a burst of colour and noise flew past Draco’s window.

“What in Merlin’s beard…?” Draco murmured, staring out the window.

The bottom of what seemed to be a large, black and gold carriage now stood in front of Draco’s small window and the noise of men shouting travelled into the kitchen. Draco leaned forward, trying to catch a glimpse of the full carriage, but the kitchen was below ground and the window was slim.

It was unusual for anyone to visit the Manor this late, especially in a carriage like that one. No one visited Bellatrix unless it was for some ancient, illegal spell or to offer her a place in their weird, evil cult.

However, Draco’s confusion intensified when a black, leather boot stepped out of the carriage door. Because that boot had a lion’s crest imprinted on it. That boot belonged to the palace.

“Yup, Bellatrix definitely lives here. No one else can give a house a look of doom and gloom as she can.” Sirius Black’s deep voice came from outside, shaking Draco from his shock. The boot must have belonged to him but Draco still had no idea why he was here. Yes, Bellatrix and Sirius were cousins, but Draco was sure they only spoke in curses to each other.

Draco was still considering this when the world seemed to stop. His heart paused in his chest, his lungs stopped breathing, as a voice sounded from above. That voice. Harry’s voice.

“The Manor always scared me, even before Bellatrix. I would have to hold Draco’s hand during the night anytime I came for a sleepover as a child.”

Draco’s mind was whirring, but his heart was still, as he tried to understand, tried to comprehend why Harry was here. Outside the Manor. Outside Draco’s home. He came up with no explanation, but despite his confusion, despite everything, he could feel his heart reach out to Harry.

“You mean you just used that as an excuse to hold Draco’s hand,” Sirius responded, as Harry stepped from the carriage, a guard or servant, Draco didn’t know which, standing by his side. Draco blinked at Sirius’ statement.

“Shut up!” Draco could hear the embarrassment in Harry’s voice. There was silence for a moment as no one moved, until Harry spoke again, this time much quieter.

“What am I meant to say, Padfoot? I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Hey, Draco! I know it was you last night at the ball, and I just wanted to let you know I’m kind of obsessed with you. I have had a crush on you since I was twelve and I’m probably in love with you. Do you want to go out sometime?”

Harry snorted but quickly turned quiet again. “Seriously, Pads. What am I going to do? I can’t mess this up.”

Sirius’ feet stepped towards Harry’s. “I have known you since you were a baby, Harry Potter. I know you won’t mess this up. Just be honest with him. Tell him exactly how you feel and leave nothing hidden, because only then can you gain. You might wanna leave out the part that you have dreams about him though. That’s a bit creepy.”

Draco heard Harry sigh before whispering a sincere “thank you” to Sirius and walking away from Draco’s small window and towards the door.

It is hard to put into words the feelings one may experience when a dream sets itself into reality, especially a dream that revolves around love. No simple word can even begin to describe the happiness Draco felt in that moment. His chest ached, not with pain, but with love and joy, as he tried to comprehend that Harry felt the same, that Harry wanted him. Draco had never allowed himself to delve into the possibility of Harry reciprocating his feelings, the danger of getting lost in the dream too real, but now. Now, Draco didn’t have to dream anymore. Now, his dreams were real.

Draco spun around and ran for the door. He needed to get to Harry. But a shadowy figure blocked his path, a small smirk on the face.

“Now,” Bellatrix said, her voice sharp and cutting, “where do you think you’re going?”

Fear inched its way into Draco’s heart. “The Prince is at the door, Miss Bellatrix. I need to answer it.”

Bellatrix’s laughter filled the room, but there was no amusement in it. “And why do you think I would let you do that?”

“Because…because that’s what I usually do. I always answer the door to guests.”

“Well, don’t worry. I do not require you to answer the door this time. Especially since you’ve spent so much time with the Prince already. I’m sure he is sick of your company by now.”

Draco’s heart stopped. Did she know? How could she know? Draco’s question was answered when his aunt held up a small silver mask. His mask. He felt as if he was going to be sick.

“You see, Draco. I know everything. I know that you’re in love with that stupid little prince, and I know that somehow he feels the same. But the thing is, that doesn’t suit my plans. I want one of my sons to marry him and you are really getting in the way of that. So if we can’t have him,” Bellatrix dropped the mask to the floor and stamped on it, snapping it in two,  “then neither can you.”

The chime of the doorbell echoed through the house, and Bellatrix turned away. Draco stood in shock, staring at the small, broken mask on the ground, before looking up to meet his aunt’s gaze once more. She smirked, before slamming the door shut behind her, leaving Draco in the kitchen alone.

Draco ran forward, pulling the handle down, but the door was locked.

“HARRY!” Draco yelled, pounding his fist against the door. “I’M DOWN HERE! HARRY, PLEASE!”

He punched the wood, not caring for the blood dripping from his knuckles or the pain in his throat. He needed to get out of here. He couldn’t lose Harry again, not now, not after everything he knew.

As Draco shouted Harry’s name again, a sudden flame seemed to ignite inside of him. He felt the fire spread across his body, each inch of skin filled with power. It was magic. His magic that was pumping through his veins for the first time in years. The wooden door flung open without Draco even needing to cast a spell, and he ran. And this time, he wasn’t running away.

 

“What do you mean he doesn’t want to see me? Can’t he at least tell me that himself?” Harry’s voice travelled down the halls as Draco sped down the hallway, his magic surging him forward.

Bellatrix’s voice grew louder as Draco ran. “I apologise immensely, your Highness, but Draco is simply refusing to-”

“Refusing to what?” Draco skidded into the hall, his heavy panting echoing off the marble walls as everyone stared. Sirius stood at the door, his eyes wide, while Vincent and Gregory stood in the corner. Draco could feel Bellatrix’s outraged glare, but he ignored it, instead choosing to look at Harry who stood a few metres in front. Harry who was looking at him with those bloody emerald eyes that did crazy things to Draco. Harry whose face was displaying millions of emotions. Harry who Draco Malfoy loved.

Harry glanced between Draco and Bellatrix. “What in the bloody hell is going on?”

“Your Highness, he is a crazy man. I did not want to upset you further by telling you this, but after his parents’ deaths, Draco lost his mind. He is gripped by insanity and-”

“For Merlin’s sake,  _shut up!_ ” Draco interrupted. Bellatrix’s voice suddenly cut off, her eyes wide, as she opened her mouth but no sound came out.

Draco looked down at his hands, feeling the magic burn in his fingers, and grinned. His magic had made her silent. He lifted his hand towards Bellatrix and flicked his fingers, and the witch stood rigid. Her body was completely still and her arms looked glued to his side. Draco thought he could get used to this.

“Draco…?” Harry stepped forward, his eyes asking all the questions he couldn’t voice.

Draco smiled a small, secretive smile. “Hello, Harry.”

Harry’s mouth slowly morphed into a grin brighter than the sun and the stars, and Draco suddenly had a hard time breathing. They each stepped forward, both trepidation and purposefulness in their movements, and Harry reached out, pulling Draco against his chest like he was scared Draco would disappear if he didn’t. Draco was scared Harry would disappear too.

“What’s going on, Draco? Where have you been all these years? And why are you dressed like that?” Harry asked, pulling back and scanning Draco’s torn, dirty clothes.

Draco looked away. He didn’t know how to explain what hell was like. “After father died, Bellatrix wanted me to earn my keep. I’m -I’m sort of a servant here.”

“More of a slave, really,” Gregory stated from the corner, while Vince nodded his head in agreement. Neither seemed too bothered by the idea.

Harry looked from Gregory to Draco, his eyes full of shock. “What? What do you mean? I don’t…” Harry expression changed from shocked to pity, then anger, then guilt as he studied Draco’s thin form.

“It’s not your fault, Harry. How could you have known?” Draco placed a hand on Harry’s cheek. He couldn’t let Harry blame himself for how Bellatrix treated him. “We haven’t seen each other in years, and she didn’t allow me to write to you, never mind firecall-”

Harry’s arms tightened around Draco. “Wait, what?! You never wrote to me?”

Draco shook his head.

“Then that means it must have been… her. She wrote that bloody letter!” Harry’s eyes were full of anger, before softening again once seeing Draco’s confused expression. “I got a letter from you, well her, just after your father’s death. It said that you couldn’t bear the sight of me as I reminded you of everything you had lost, and asked me to not visit you any longer. I was devastated. I cried for days. But I did what you asked and I never came. I thought you hated me until last night.”

Draco’s heart ached at the thought of what could have been. Years of pain and loneliness could have ceased to exist if it wasn’t for that letter, but he couldn’t hate Harry for what happened. He could never hate Harry.

“You must have thought that I hated you. I never came to see you. Merlin, I have been such a fool.” Harry’s eyes were glassy with tears and his voice full of guilt.

Draco leant his forehead against Harry’s. “We have both been fools. But I think I’m the bigger fool for falling in love with a Prince.”

“I believe I’ll have to disagree with you,” Harry replied, smiling. “I’m the one who fell in love with a masked stranger at a ball.”

Harry gazed into Draco’s eyes, as his hands moved down Draco’s spine. The green eyes dropped to Draco’s lips, a hungry flame now burning in them, and every fibre in Draco’s body was telling him to inch closer, to lean up and close the distance between them. Draco’s heart was telling him to kiss Harry Potter. And so he did.

Draco ran his hands through Harry’s hair, revelling in the way the soft curls felt through his fingers, as his lips pressed against Harry’s. Harry’s hands pulled Draco closer, causing waves of electricity to shoot through Draco from every spot where their bodies touched. The kiss was soft and gentle, years of loneliness and separation instilling caution into each of them, but there was a quiet confidence in how their lips moved together. When Harry sighed into his mouth, Draco was sure his heart had left his body and made a home in Harry’s own. It belonged there anyway.

 

Draco didn’t remember much after that kiss, his heart was too full and his mind too preoccupied with Harry’s hand in his for the rest of the afternoon. Bellatrix was arrested by the guards, but, at Draco’s request, Gregory and Vincent were allowed to go free. They only really followed their mother’s example after all.

“How did you know it was me at the ball?” Draco asked, as the carriage moved further away from the Manor and to his new home with Harry. Anywhere would be home as long as Harry was there.

Harry laughed, pulling Draco closer to him. “You called me “Potter”. Only you have ever called me that. Plus, my magic sensed it was you as soon as I laid eyes on you. It just took me a while to recognise it.”

“Good thing you did recognise me,” Draco replied, leaning his head against Harry’s shoulder.

A small kiss was pressed to Draco’s head. “Yes, it was a good thing. I think it was one of the best things I’ve ever done actually.”

As the carriage moved on, Draco glanced back to the glooming house behind him. He didn’t know if he could ever go back there. Too much pain, too much suffering had taken place in that house for even years of healing to mend.

Draco glanced to the man above him. He was his Prince Charming, his knight in shining armour or whatever other fairytale cliche came to mind, but Draco knew Harry Potter was so much more than that. Harry was Draco’s hope and that meant more than any story could describe. 

That meant  _everything_.


End file.
